


Angelic Touch

by Puellainrotis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And from the bookshop fire, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Nightmares (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puellainrotis/pseuds/Puellainrotis
Summary: Crowley has a nightmare, again. Aziraphale does his best to comfort him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	Angelic Touch

“Aziraphale… gone… bastards…“

The angel was awoken by the twitching demon next to him. The mumbled words were coming out of  
him as pained, strangled sobs.

Aziraphale turned on the lamp on his bedside table and gently shook with Crowley’s shoulder.  
“I’m here, darling, I’m okay, dear, wake up, Crowley, everything's alright,” he was saying softly as not  
to startle the demon.

The terrified yellow eyes flew open and Crowley gasped. It took a moment before his mind was able  
to process the reality. He looked into the face leaning over him, so soft with affection and worry that  
it almost hurt, and he started to calm down.

“I’m here, Crowley. With you. Always will be,” Aziraphale repeated for Crowley to actually hear. His  
tone was soft but firm, quiet but insistent.

“They... Angel...” Crowley sobbed.

“I know. It was just a nightmare, Crowley,” Aziraphale said and pulled the demon closer, wrapped  
him with his hands and placed a loving kiss into his sweaty hair.

These nightmares were quite a common occurrence since the averted Armageddon but that didn’t  
mean they were getting any easier to deal with. Crowley once admitted that he had been having  
flashback nightmares ever since the Fall, but claimed those newer ones about Aziraphale to be a  
thousand times worse. That was somehow simultaneously absolutely heart-breaking and heart-  
warming for the angel to hear.

“Aziraphale... It was... Like... pieces of different dreams,” the distressed demon managed to say  
before the fear overwhelmed him again and he choked on it.

“Let me help you first, my dearest,” Aziraphale said softly before taking Crowley’s shaking hands into  
his own. “We can talk about it then if that’s what you need.”

Angelic touch had the ability to calm people down better than anxiety meds and it was kind of their  
routine by then. Crowley woke up from a bad dream and Aziraphale helped him with all the means  
they had.

The demon, who now seemed so fragile and small and in a way almost resembled a scared kid, felt  
waves of comfortable heat spreading from where their hands were joined. He gave his partner an  
exhausted smile and whispered “Thank you” as his mind was finally starting to let go of the ideas the  
dream implanted into it.

Aziraphale once asked him why he practised sleeping when he didn’t actually need to, if this was the  
cost. Crowley had to think about it himself before he could explain that despite celestial beings  
technically not needing to sleep, his body had grown so used to it over the millennia that it actually  
demanded it now and Crowley felt even worse when he didn’t sleep for a few days than he did  
having those dreams several times a week.

“You’re so very welcome, Crowley,” the angel nodded, a fond expression on his face. “Why don’t you  
go take a nice relaxing shower now while I fix you some hot cocoa?”

“Don’t want to be without you, angel,” the wounded being responded.

“A shower will help you. And you’re all sweaty. I’ll be in the kitchen, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Crowley nodded, suddenly looking like he realised that he had done something horrible. “’M  
gross. Sorry.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say, dear, don’t apologise.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled as he forced himself to move and get out of the bed.

Aziraphale, who wasn’t much of a fan of sleeping anyway, left the warm sheets behind as well and  
moved to the kitchen while the other being went to the bathroom.

Crowley turned the water as hot as he could stand on and stepped into the shower.  
He soon realised that the nearly boiling water running down his body was joined by his own tears as  
he remembered the dream once again.

Dead Aziraphale. He realised now that the angel would not even leave a body behind in case of being  
destroyed but in the dream, Crowley found his corpse in the burning bookshop. Like the demon's  
mind just couldn’t comprehend Aziraphale not being human.

Another picture. Aziraphale, real Aziraphale, stepping into the Hellfire meant to destruct him as a  
part of the trial. Aziraphale, making an inhuman sound, soul-breaking scream as he caught on fire  
and disappeared, only a pile of ash left behind.

Third vision. Aziraphale, covered in wounds as they tortured him in Hell after finding out about their  
relationship. Crying with pain. Giving Crowley an accusing and betrayed look before mouthing “It’s  
your fault.” silently.

He couldn’t stay in there any longer. Couldn’t stand not seeing Aziraphale, not having him nearby.  
Crowley wrapped a towel around his hips before stepping out of the shower and heading to the  
kitchen.

Aziraphale turned to face him when he remained standing in the doorframe, and frowned: “Why are  
you back already? The cocoa isn’t ready yet. And why aren’t you dressed?”

“Needed to see you, angel,” he admitted before miracling himself into a set of clean pyjamas and  
then he made his way towards Aziraphale. He hugged the bigger figure from behind and nuzzled  
into the crook of his neck.

“We are alright, Crowley. Nobody is going to hurt me. Or you.” Aziraphale smiled a little when he felt  
Crowley breath in his scent, and turned around to face him. “Just a minute, love. I’ll finish this and  
then we're going back to the bedroom, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Crowley mumbled before taking a step back.

He watched the angel pour the hot milk into the mug and then pick it up from the counter.  
“Well, let's go back, shall we?”  
“Yeah, let's go,” Crowley nodded.  
Crowley looked at the bed and shook his head.  
“Nope. Don’t want to go back to bed now,” he said.  
Aziraphale paused for a moment before saying: “You could make yourself comfortable in the  
armchair then.”

The armchair was where Aziraphale spent most nights with a book when he didn’t feel like sleeping.  
Now, Crowley slouched into it and Aziraphale placed his tartan patterned blanket over him. The  
demon tried to protest but was completely unsuccessful.

“Now, do you want to talk about your nightmare, dear?” Aziraphale asked gently after he handed  
Crowley his drink.

“Nah, not really,” he replied. His long fingers wrapped around the mug and he focused on the  
pleasant warmth it was giving off rather than his negative thoughts.

“I understand,” the angel nodded. “Shall I read, then?”

“Out loud?” Crowley asked. It wasn’t about the plot – he didn't give a damn about that, frankly – but his  
angel’s voice was just so calming when he was reading aloud.

“As you wish.”

He sat on the bed and grabbed the book he was currently reading from the bedside table.  
As Aziraphale started reading, Crowley closed his eyes and let his mind drift away. He didn’t pay  
attention to the words – he has known Hamlet for centuries and he still preferred the funny ones  
anyway. His focus was on Aziraphale’s voice instead, the way how the angel read each emotion of  
the characters differently, the way he was obviously enjoying the reading...

The angel miracled the mug away only just before Crowley dropped it as he fell asleep again, this  
time with no more bad dream.


End file.
